Crack Files
by Remote-Controlled Button
Summary: Featuring every character, Crack Files is a series of one shots.
1. Chapter 1

Apologies for the lack of umlauts in 'Eyjafjallajokull'.

"Iceland!", yelled Switzerland. "You'd better clear up this damned ash cloud unless you want to be eating bullets!"

Iceland crossed his arms. How long was it going to take for the other countries to realize that this wasn't his fault? Didn't they realize that he was suffering too? Still Iceland knew better than to ignore Switzerland's threat. "My apologies. We're doing the best we can", he said.

Switzerland scowled, but moved away as Iceland felt a hand on his shoulder. "Do not threaten Iceland again, da?"

"Hello, Russia", greeted Iceland.

"You should clear up the ash before someone hurts you."

"I wish I could. I've already got Poland and England breathing down my neck." _And Belgium, and Ireland, and Scotland, and Austria, and Denmark, and Lithuania, and Estonia, and Hungary, and Finland, and France, and Germany, and Norway, and Sweden... _he continued mentally.

"Really? Perhaps I should pay them a little visit as well." Russia wandered off and Iceland started to cough. Damn that ash cloud!

"Heyy... Iceland..."

Oh, and look! Another country that wanted to kill him.

"Look, I'm working on it. The stupid cloud is-"

"Scotland cut him. "I don't give a bloody damn what you're doin' about the cloud."

"You don't?", asked Iceland hopefully.

"Look, I just need to borrow some cash for the bar, so..."

Iceland's spirits fell again. "From the look of things, you're already drunk, so no."

"I hate Iceland! I hate Iceland!" Scotland stumbled off, still shouting.

"Hello, Iceland."

"Hello again, Russia."

Russia's face darkened into a frown. "It's not good to have so many enemies. I'll have to deal with all them when you become one with me. But soon you'll all be united under Mother Russia!"

"Of course", agreed Iceland, not wanting to risk gaining yet another enemy.

"How nice! You agree that everyone should become one with me!" Russia pulled Iceland into a tight hug. Iceland struggled to breathe until he was released, then he staggered a few feet a away, coughing hard. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have hurt him at all. Add that to the list of reasons to hate that stupid cloud from that stupid volcano. Stupid Eyjafjallajokull. With a grim look, Iceland straightened himself up and started to walk. "Iceland! Where are you going?", called Russia.

"To find a pick axe." That volcano was going down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sealand Accidentally Digs Up a Society of Mole People Living in England's Back Yard**

"Stupid jerk England", mumbled Sealand angrily. "I can have more fun out here anyway with no jerk England to bother me."

In reality, Sealand was the one bothering England. Sweden had dumped him off for a visit and took off, muttering something about Finland and chocolate syrup. Needless to say, both England and Sealand were very unhappy with the arrangements, which had resulted in Sealand getting kicked out to the back yard.

So here he was, bored out of his skull while Sweden and Finland were off having fun.

Sealand's train of thought was interrupted when his eyes fell onto a shovel laying on the ground. Making his way over to it, Sealand grinned. There was no way he could be bored with a shovel around! He might dig up something cool and as an added bonus, digging up the yard would annoy England.

"Score!", hollered Sealand, picking up the shovel. But where to begin... "I'll start in the middle!" Smiling happily, the young nation started to dig.

About an hour later, Sealand fell back onto the grass. He had taken a sizeable chunk out of England's yard, but he hadn't found anything cool. He had did start to hear a sort of banging sound though, so after a quick break, he started to dig again. The banging gradually grew louder until Sealand finally came upon a door in the ground. Excitedly, Sealand climbed out of the hole, which was a few inches taller than he was, and reached down to open the door. It slowly came open and Sealand was greeted by a pair of shiny black eyes staring up at him. Sealand yelled and launched himself toward the house.

"ENGLAND!!!"

Looking back, he saw that weird animal things were crawling out of the hole and towards him. "ENGLAND!", screamed Sealand frantically. He started to pound on the door. The beings didn't seem to be bothered by the noise. Finally, England opened the door.

"What's-" He was cut off as Sealand pushed his way inside the house and slammed the door. "Sealand, what did you do?" His only reply was Sealand hyperventilating.

"Sealand", persisted England. "What happened?" Sealand gesture toward the window and England walked over to it. "What..?" His entire yard was swarmed with dark skinned, dark eyed, small people that crawled rather than walked. They didn't seem to like the light, but they didn't go back to their hole either. England turned back to Sealand. "Stay here. I'm going to go find out what they want. If things get violent, make sure you stay safe."

With a deep breath, England stepped outside. Immediately he saw swarmed by the creatures. They snuggled up to his ankles.

"Hello!", greeted one cheerfully.

"Hello", replied England, keeping his composure. "My name is Arthur Kirkland."

"You can call me Charles! My real name is impossible for humans to pronounce."

"Charles, eh? So tell me, what are you, exactly?"

"I'm a mole person."

"Is English your native language?"

"No. We speak in mole language, but we learned English by listening to humans talk."

"So you have no animosity toward humans?"

Charles's eyes darkened. "Oh, we do We most certainly do. But we're not natural fighters, we're natural thinkers. We're engineering a weapon, but resources are limited under the soil.

"Oh. Well, I'm terribly sorry that my... son dug up your home. If you'd all go back in, I'll cover it up for you."

"I think not. You know about us and our plans to destroy human kind. You must be eliminated."

"Wait, wait. Think about it, who would believe us?"

'We can take no chances, and as we are perfectly capable of wielding weapons, I suggest you do as I say. Otherwise, I fear for the well being of your son. Now go open the door and tell him to come out here."

Sighing in defeat, England opened the door. "Peter? Come out and say hello." Sealand looked up from the window, where he's been watching.

"They're dumber than you, jerk." He whispered. "I could hear every word. What's 'animosity'?"

"Never mind that. Find a weapon. Quickly." After a brief search, Sealand handed England a sharpened pencil and held on to a teacup for his weapon of choice. The pair headed outside.

"Good", said Charles. "Now walk up to the hole."

"I think not!", yelled England. "You may outnumber us, but as you can see, we are armed, and we have back up on the way!"

_What back up?,_ wondered Sealand as the conversation carried on.

"Go back to your home and do not threaten us again!"

Charles squeaked angrily and the tribe of mole people attacked. Sealand's first action was to throw the teacup. It broke over a mole person's head and stunned him. A few feet away, England was fighting well with the pencil, but Charles was sneaking up from behind. Without turning his head, England kicked Charles with his heel, sending him flying. Sealand stared in amazement. A mole person took the opportunity to bite Sealand in the leg hard enough to draw blood. Sealand yelped and kicked him.

Finally, the two nations were able to send the mole people retreating back to their hole. Sealand was limping from the bite on his leg, and England was bleeding from a bite on his hand, but other than that, they were unscathed.

"England! That was so cool!", cheered Sealand. "With only a pencil, too!"

"Thank you. But before Sweden can take you back, I'm going to have to think of a good punishment for you."

"JERK!"

Teehee. ^_^ I named the mole person after Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice for no particular reason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fucking Limeys and Their Not-So-Great Cooking That Makes Aliens Like Tony Want to Kill Them**

"I know you don't like him, but can I bring Tony when I come over?", asked America sheepishly over the phone.

"Hell no! The visit's to improve country relations, not obliterate them, git!", was England's angry reply.

"Oh...um. It's kinda too late."

As a wave of dread washed over him England asked, "Wh-what?"

"See, he tried to teleport us here, but his technology doesn't work so well here on Earth and... Well, we're sort of on your roof."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't freak out, we're only a day early anyway."

"You're on my bloody roof! I don't even own a ladder!"

"Why the hell not?"

England took a moment to consider that. Why _didn't_ he own a ladder? "I'm not exactly sure."

"Well, go buy one!", insisted America.

"No way! Just jump down."

"You have a high roof."

"Oh, bloody hell. I'll come outside and try to catch you. That way you'll have something soft to land on, even if it is my dead body."

"Thanks, Iggy!"

England hung up the phone and quickly headed outside. Sure enough, there were America and Tony, one looking quite happy, the other looking homicidal. "Hi, England!"

"Shut up and jump", snapped England.

"Do you promise to catch me?"

"Of course", muttered England flatly.

"Okay!" America jumped down. England watched as America fell, not even bothering to look concerned when he hit the ground.

"There, you're down. Come inside now."

"Owwww. England, you promised to catch me!"

"Did I? I don't recall. Silly me." England smirked and walked inside, leaving America to wait for Tony to jump into his arms and then rush to follow him.

"That was not cool of you!", exclaimed America.

"You're the one who ended up on my roof! You're staying for a week, did you even bring a suitcase?"

America shifted his glasses nervously.. "About that... Tony kinda didn't teleport my suitcase."

"I guess you can worry about that later. As long as you're here, I might as well make dinner."

"No, no! Really! You don't have to do that!"

"Shut up!", barked England. "I'm cooking for you, and you will eat it and like it! Does..._that_ eat with you normally?", he asked, pointing at Tony.

"Yes. _He_ eats with me sometimes."

Tony remained silent, merely looking about the room with morbid curiosity.

"Okay, then. I'll make dinner for three."

"But really!", protested America. "You don't have to! You were right, it was rude of me to teleport onto the roof of your house. I'll cook!"

"Absolutely not", said England sternly. "Sit down and wait 'til I'm done."

America nodded and flopped onto the couch. England left the room with a hint of an evil smile on his face.

"I don't like him", commented Tony.

America turned his head to stare. "I know."

"America", called England a while later. "Bring your... thing and come in here. Dinner's ready."

"Brace yourself, Tony", whispered America as they entered the dining room.

England beamed at the pair from across the table with a psychotic look in his eyes. "You'll love it."

America sat down and poked at his food. Tony experimentally licked his. He hissed. "Friend Alfred, get under the table."

America looked confused. "Under the- why?"

"Do it!", Tony insisted.

"Whatever you say", said America, following the order. Tony hopped onto the table.

"What do you you think you're doing?", shouted England.

"Shut up, fucking limey!", snarled Tony, producing a gun looking object from seemingly nowhere and taking aim at England's chest.

"Tony, no!" America popped back out from under the table.

"Get back down if you want to live!"

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

"DEATH TO ALL!" Tony pulled the trigger of the gun.

"NOOOOOOOO!" America dived back under the table and yanked England down by the legs just as Tony's gun produced a fast moving stream of bubbles. They floated around the room, some of them hitting the walls and table and popping with a soft, airy, altogether pleasant sound.

"What's going on?", asked America from under the table.

"What's going... on... is that you're.... crushing my lungs", wheezed England.

"Why isn't there a massive explosion? Is it a time bomb?"

"Can't...breathe.."

"Or an aerially transmitted virus!"

"Wouldn't affect... me..."

"I'm gonna get up and check. You stay here until I decide it's safe." America cautiously crawled out from under the table and England gasped for breath. Tony was still standing on the table, holding out his bubble gun defensively. "Tony... drop the gun."

"My apologies, friend Alfred. The fucking limey is not compatible with me."

"Yes, I can see that", said England, emerging from under the table.

"Hey, I didn't give the all clear!"

"If you don't get out within five seconds", started England, sounding homicidal. "I will all clear you. Up the ass. With something hard and sandpapery. Where no one can hear you scream."

Without a word, America stuffed Tony under his arm and backed away toward the door, wide eyed. Once they were a safe distance from the house, Tony asked, "How does one 'all clear' a person?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm not going back to find out."

"F*ck you! F*ck you with something hard and sandpapery." It's from the video Let Me Borrow That Top.


	4. Chapter 4

Large fingers overturned sheets of paper on a mahogany desk. Russia frowned when he found no pencil on the desk's surface. Dropping to his hands and knees, he searched the floor, but his elusive pencil remained missing. Sighing in annoyance, Russia tried a new method. "Latvia~!"

"Y-y-yes?" Latvia entered within seconds, and didn't bat an eye when he saw Russia on the floor.

Russia grinned. "You don't look quite so short from down here!"

Unsure of what to say, Latvia nodded.

"May I borrow a pencil, Latvia?"

Nodding again, Latvia withdrew a wooden pencil from his shirt pocket. Russia stood and took it, eying Latvia with disappointment. "You're short again."

"S-sorry."

"You may go."

Latvia scurried out, leaving Russia to his paperwork. Sitting at his desk, Russia pressed Latvia's pencil to a sheet of paper. With a snap, the pencil cracked in half. Russia's eyes filled with tears. "LATVIAA!"

Latvia entered the room to see a hysterical Russia clutching the uneven halves of his pencil. "I'm sorry!", wailed Russia. "Your pencil broke!" He pulled Latvia into a tight hug, tears dampening the smaller nation's shoulder.

"I d-don't mind", insisted Latvia. "It's okay."

"It's not okay! It was your pencil and I BROKE IT!"

"I can always get a new pencil", tried Latvia.

"R-really?", sniffled Russia.

Latvia shook in Russia's embrace. "O-of course."

"Thank you, Latvia! I'm so sorry I broke your pencil" Only... now I don't have anything to do paperwork with, and you have two halves of one pencil."

"What happened t-to your pencil?"

Russia's face darkened. "He ran away... It's all his fault that this happened! Help me look for him, Latvia. When we find him, we can kill him."

Sighing in relief, Latvia dropped to his knees, thanking God that he was free from Russia's attentions.

"Latvia, you're not look~ing."

For now...


End file.
